Stories of The Castle
by Caston James
Summary: A collection of short Harry Potter drabbles, ranging from chilling to fluffy. There is sure to be one that suits your taste or craving. Story 1, "chess", is a chilling tale about a girl who evades the truth with harsher truth.


The date was May 2, 1998. It started out a quite normal morning (although, what was normal anymore?). I was wandering the halls, unlike I was supposed to be, when one of the Death Eaters stopped me. My long blonde hair was curly from the heat inside the castle, and my green eyes shone with thought.

"What are you doing, girl?" he asked in a gruff voice. I stood, feet together, hands held neatly behind my back.

"I am not a girl," I said. He looked confused.

"Fine then, boy," he corrected.

I shook my head. "I am not a boy."

"Then what are you?" he asked, more curious than angry.

"I cannot be labeled as a gender. I am not as I appear."

The Death Eater gave me a funny look. "Don't be pulling anything with me, Ravenclaw."

"I am not a Ravenclaw," I said.

"You are, the crest is there, on your robes!" He pointed at the emblem on my chest, and I simply smiled.

"I am all the houses, put together, united in one," I said.

"But that is not possible. You have to be from a house, only one!"

"I am. I am from Ravenclaw."

The man looked fired up about my response, but he didn't strike at me. His curiosity was greater than his rage. "But you said you are not a Ravenclaw!"

"That is right," I confirmed.

"But you are from Ravenclaw?"

"That is also right."

"So you _are _a Ravenclaw?"

"No, I am not."

He grabbed my robes and pulled me to him, but I did not panic. I stayed calm, and looked up into his eyes. They were black, like buttons without the holes. They were deep, like the Black Lake. Even more, they were sad, desperate. But they were mean, and cold. I did not like them. They were scary.

"Tell me what you are!" he demanded. I stood with my eyes locked on his, our bodies so close they touched.

"I am the dark."

"You are not dark," he said, releasing my robes slightly.

"No. I am not dark."

"You are not _the_ dark, either."

"How could you know?" I asked, watching a tear form in his eye. He pulled me into a hug, and I could /smell/ the darkness on his skin.

"Because I raised you, my daughter," he said

"I am not your daughter," I said.

"What do you mean, my dearest?" I brought my arms from behind me and placed both my hands on his back.

"I am but a pawn for your games. Easy to sacrifice. Easy to give up."

He fell to the ground, blood pouring out from the knife in his back. He made strange motions, bleeding from his mouth and staring up at me with a look of betrayal. But I did not mind. I watched him die with stone cold eyes, waiting for the glare to fade out of the two black buttons. I leaned down next to him, so he could hear my reasoning before he sank into hell.

"There are two kings in chess. Harry Potter and You-Know-Who are the kings. We are pawns, you and I. As I am afraid, we are of different kingdoms. And for every pawn killed from your kingdom, our king is more likely to survive." He was breathing rapidly, about to die, hatred in his eyes. I stood, eyes still harsh, and said one last thing; "You turned her over to the Ministry because she was Muggle-born. But I will see her again, and I will say I am sorry. I will tell Mother I am sorry I did not kill you sooner."

"Next," said the Death Eater woman at the front of the room. A large batch of Veritaserum brewed in a large caldron beside the desk. One drop was put into the mouth of a fourth year boy, and Headmaster spoke.

"Did you kill this man?" he asked, referring to the moving photo of the Death Eater I had killed on his desk. The boy looked at it.

"No," he said, not that he had a choice. The Death Eater woman checked his wand to see his last spell, and he was free to go.

"Next."

I was shown to the desk. I sat with my thoughtful green eyes and curly blonde hair. I crossed my ankles and sat up straight, staring Headmaster straight in the eyes, as too many were afraid to do. His eyes too were black, but different. They too were sad and desperate, but there was more. Determined. Brave. Strong. Doubtful. Remorseful. And careful. Careful not to let his determination, bravery, strength, doubts, and remorse show. But I saw it, because I can see. Most people cannot see, but I can, and I had a feeling he could, too.

A drop of Veritaserum was forced in my mouth. I felt the strange liquid slide down my throat. Headmaster hesitated in his question. "Did you kill your father?"

I smiled. "No."

My wand was checked. I was free to go.

Now there was something most people would not understand. They might think I lied, but I could not. They _know_ I killed the man in the picture on Headmaster's desk. And yet, here is the catch;

I did not kill Father. I killed a pawn in a game of chess.

Father killed himself, long, long ago.


End file.
